


Dust Bowl Dance

by Kingbird



Series: Spirits of the Past [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/M, LGBTQ Character, Link is just doing his best, M/M, Male Sheik, Morally Grey Characters, More tags as we go!, Most of our relationships there are just mentions, References to Transphobia, Sheik as his own character, So is sheik!, Trans Character, Unrequited Crush, a little bit of bodyhorror as we get to the end, gratuitous western!tloz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-01 19:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingbird/pseuds/Kingbird
Summary: They say once the Goddesses drowned evil beneath the waves. Now they have reached to strangle it with famine and drought. Left to wither, Hyrule and its allies retreat to what few bastions of water and shelter remain. All else? Left wild and lawless on the frontier of unexplored or abandoned territories. A lone Sheikah is dispatched to curtail the actions of a murderous band of cattle thieves, and finds himself tangled in the first threads of fate.





	1. Prologue

Long ago, a Pirate Queen and a traveler clad in green sailed the vast oceans to create a new land. In their journeys, the great powers which had aided them on their quest were lost beneath the waves, sacrificed to seal darkness away. In time, they settled on a distant shore, and gave their new home an ancient name: Hyrule. When their home was threatened, and evil sought to destroy the foundling kingdom, another Hero arose from their descendants. He slew this evil with the aid of his friends, and united the people using the power of the Spirit Tracks and the magic of the Lokomo Sword.

For a time this kingdom flourished, freed from all evils. It grew and swelled, its people coming from all across the new land. Slowly the new Hylians sought to spread further and further into unknown territory, encountering many great wonders and new friends as they did.

But peace has a way of drawing to a close. Eventually Hyrule's champions lay dormant and its nobility made lax for the legends told them there was nothing to fear.

This was a dangerous mistake. One corrupted noble managed to dredge golden power from the depths of the ocean, and made for himself a selfish wish. The goddesses, angered by the transgression and the apathy of their Hylian children, reached out to punish them all. Once they had drowned the world beneath the oceans. Now they would scorch this blight from cracked, dead earth.

Not a drop of rain fell from that day forward, until the very seas receded, all rivers left to become empty canyons. Here and there verdant places remained-- but as a warning to the people who would try to settle there. For in green hills lived far more ancient powers which were able to breathe life, still, into the dusty land, and guard their sources of water from even the goddesses and forces of nature themselves. Some such deities were benevolent… most were not.

But not all of them could sit idly by. The Great Deku Tree buried his roots deep into the heart of Hyrule, drawing forth water to keep all of the world’s people safe… and then with the last of his breath, offered shelter to those who would seek to survive within the shelter of the ancient tree. And with that, the Deku Tree fell silent, and left the world, and all the Koroks disappeared with him, leaving the withered remains of the once expansive forest as a last sanctuary.

Each race made their home above and below and within the Deku Tree’s expansive boughs, and passed stories along of times when heroes still walked, and rains fell upon the earth...


	2. Chapter 1

The first time Sheik sees Link, it is the night of his arrival. Somehow, some way, his act has worked-- he's been added into the group of cattle rustlers and potential murderers with nary a hiccup given his near unnatural accuracy with any sort of ranged weapon. But then of course, he should not be surprised. Impa had trained him well. It was one thing to doubt his own abilities, and another to doubt hers.

They'd been on the road for two days when a storm kicked up in the distance, across the muddied, stinking river they were approaching. It was headed away from them, but the collection of cattle behind them didn't know that... and even if some of them were smart enough, it only took a few nervous animals to make the whole two-hundred head of cattle spook and shy. They had barely stopped in two days, pressing a cut-throat pace as they left civilization far behind them... which was suspicious in and of itself. Everyone was tired, cows included, cranky and short-tempered. They came to the bank of the river, and the whole herd balked at the banks, refusing to cross the massive bridge.

There was shouting and cussing heard above the lowing of the cattle; their eyes were white-rimmed, their heads turned towards the dark wall of thunder and strange, twisting magic in the distance. A product of of the Twilit's settlement of some places undoubtedly, but really of no concern. Their boundaries were always clearly marked, and they had no strength to push their borders outwards even in the overcast, cloud-choked sky. If the rains were going to fall black, it would be only in those places and would spread no further. And certainly they would not dare to push onto well-used cattle roads.

Unfortunately, there was no way to explain this to a frightened cow. And the more the ponies whinnied, and the more the humans shouted, the more fearful and twitchy the herd became. The foremost animals were threatening to break free- and then that would be it. No one could hope to contain a stampede of it happened. There was no convincing an animal so consumed by fear to be calm again, if they reached that point. Sheik did not want to linger on how far it would set them back, or how long it would take to collect the scattered, exhausted herd. 

Sheik's fingers tightened a little on the reigns of his horse. He was the newest one here, and his anxiety and indecision when faced with this situation marked him as more of a greenhorn than his fancy horse. It was obviously a castle-bred horse, white as snow, long limbed and thin-skinned... but then that would make sense given he was supposed to have been an escaped horse-thief. The horse was snappish enough at him for that to be believable. Even without the obvious crime of being either a very good, or very bad horse-thief, Sheik's skills as a marksman had made many of the far more seasoned band turn a blind eye to his lack of experience. He noted some of the older bandits simply moving back and waiting as the herd churned with fear. He swallowed harshly, wondering if they had given up calming down the animals.

But his fear was needless. His twitchy steed's head gave a jerk, ears pricking. Over the panicked lowing, Sheik's sensitive ears caught it, the notes of some song, old and simple, being whistled through chapped lips. It was a little off-key but clearly doing its work. He spotted a hat bobbing in the middle of the herd, fearless of the massive hooves or spear-sharp horns. And oddly, not disturbed by this intruder into the midst, the cattle within earshot were turning and stilling rather than becoming more agitated by this intruder. By the time the young Hylian had made his way through to the front of the herd, they had begun to calm. A few even swung their heads to nose or lick at him. Finally as he came to the front few animals, the eldest beasts followed sedately after him, plodding onto the wooden bridge, keeping even with the blonde boy. The others soon fell behind, the whole group just gently moving after him like they hadn't been on the verge of stampeding just heartbeats before.

The head of the group -Volga- just nodded as if this was normal, casting a smirk and wink at his newest member and giving the lithe male a clap on his shoulder."Maybe if you ask nicely, he'll tell your pony to like you, sharpshooter," He laughed, spurring his own tired horse forwards. Sheik just blinked, staring at the young rustler leading the herd across the river. Nobody else seemed phased by what had just occurred, seeming only relieved, and it felt like a collective sigh had been let out. This seemed like it had happened before. There were no remarks on the Hylian's strange ability to calm the animals. But it certainly explained a lot. 

After a moment more of consideration, the disguised Sheikah urged his horse forwards to retake his position on the flank of the formation. All he could do is stare after the sedate animals, and wonder _how_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in the lighter chapters, wordcount wise, since there's no need to bog down character introductions with too much~


	3. Chapter 2

He learns eventually through a little prying that the boy's name is Link-- he was once a ward of the state, and as such he had been given that name by them. He'd never had parents or siblings, and like Sheik, he had come from Hyrule Tree Town. Unlike Sheik, they said, he never talked. At least not to people. The animals got songs and murmurs that were just a low, soft buzz, indistinguishable above everything else. Whatever he said, they seemed to understand. For people, he had few words to spare, if any. 

And by learning about Link, he unraveled more history of the band. Link had been with this group since nearly the beginning. They'd pierced his ears at 17, and Volga himself had left Tree Town with the young, struggling stablehand. This was the reason Sheik had previously never interacted with the Hylian. Link sat at the central fire with the other veterans of the group, where Sheik had not yet earned the privilege of settling during dinners and periods of rest. But Link was just around his age, and some of the rustlers suggested that the two ought to try and get along or make friends. These stories and interactions made it hard, sometimes for Sheik to keep in mind that supposedly these were all excessively violent criminals, who had killed people for the sake of stealing their livelihoods from them. They ribbed each other like old family and spoiled their shaggy desert horses whenever they got the chance. But sometimes as Sheik glanced towards the fire at the heart of the camp, he caught a strange look in the way the fire cast shadows over their faces. That same pale, hungry gleam lit up in their eyes whenever they stared over the sloping backs of the herd as it slept, and Sheik thought they were no longer seeing live animals in the barren plains anymore. 

He had yet to see that voracious look from Link, who, aside from when he took his dinner and touched based with Volga or the others.... typically kept to himself. He would go off among the cattle and move through the herd fearlessly and effortlessly. But Sheik had noted at least once, to his satisfaction and amusement, that Link still got stepped on from time to time, and then he knew with certainty that the young man _could_ talk- his sharply snarled curse or yelp of pain would be audible enough from a small distance. But the somewhat temperamental creatures never lashed out at him on purpose. If they tread on him, they immediately moved away at whatever pained vocalization their keeper made. 

And so, Sheik eventually worked up the nerve to go see the youngest of the founding members of the cattle rustlers for himself. If nothing else, the endless teasing of his seniors regarding the ill-temper of his horse was a good enough excuse. His fidgety, flighty, bitey stallion was already fairly legendary for his obstinate nature. It was well past nightfall when Sheik lead his snow-white horse through the herd, to where he saw the stationary, slouched form of the young cowboy. Link could see him coming from the distance but made no move to actually help him traverse the living maze. Link seeing him come but not actually moving to help him through the living maze. Link made it look easy, moving through them, but they also got out of his way. They were not so obliged apparently, for Sheik's sake. Finally, after several long minutes, he came around to the young man sitting on the back of a sleeping steer, polishing his saddle, his own horse half-asleep among the cattle, not tied up or anything.

And then, Link raised his eyes and looked at him. The Sheikah was suddenly rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the pale gaze which held his so perceptively. Link's eyes- he'd never seen such a gaze from man or beast before, pale and crisp as the winter sky, bright and clear as the stars- and oh, goddesses, he had been staring those whole long moments. Link cleared his throat and dropped his eyes back down to the warm brown leather in his hands. Sheik felt whatever claws had seized his ribcage abate, though gooseflesh still rippled up his spine, his face feeling hot with embarrassment and the pitched drum of his heart. Okay. Okay. He took in a breath.

"S-sorry-" He began, and paused, for a moment expecting an answer before he remembered who he was speaking to. Link didn't so much as look up or acknowledge the apology, just digging in his ragged cloth into some embossed nook or cranny of his horse's saddle. "Ah, the Boss suggested I talk to you about my horse because it doesn't really listen to me. After I stole it-"

And there Link looks up again, looking between the pair. Disbelief enters his expression, and his gaze settles blandly on the sharpshooter. "You stole him?" He asks, quiet. His voice isn't what Sheik expects at all. Link is still young, but it's rough and low already, "He seems to like you well enough," His eyes are still on Sheik's face, and the poor Sheikah can feel himself getting flustered-- not because he's forgotten his lie, or can't handle a little prying. Link is doing strange things to Sheik's brain, and his heart, and he doesn't like that at all. He's better than this! A crush isn't a good thing to develop during a job like this, no matter how striking or enigmatic the object of his heart's apparent desire was. Really- especially on a job like this. There was no telling how deeply the Hylian was involved. 

"What do you mean?" Sheik asks, collecting himself and about to launch into the litany of how many times he's been bitten today, or earlier when the stallion nearly bucked him off for literally nothing-

"Well, you dropped his reigns and he hasn't run yet." Link cuts in. Sheik blinked, flexing his fingers. Cussed, and turned-

And then the damn horse chose that moment to get feisty, tossing back his head and whisking his tail, merely sidestepping when Sheik tried to regain the lead. He trotted around the sleeping bull that Link remained so calmly reclined on. The massive animal picked up its horned head to regard the situation with about as much interest or energy as Link had, eyes unfocused and almost bored. Sheik scrambled a moment as the horse playfully danced around him, always keeping the bulk of the other animal between him and his rider. The horse flipped its mane and snorted as though this was all a fun game, and Sheik could feel embarrassed desperation sinking deep into his brain. Really, now of all times?

After a minute or two, Link seemed to take pity on him, and as the horse sauntered by, he caught the trailing reign. The horse in return squealed sharply, dramatically digging his hooves into the packed earth to come to a stop as though the lean young man somehow had the strength to yank him to a stop. He snapped his teeth at the Hylian, to Sheik's eternal dismay... but the blond didn't flinch or retaliate for the violence either. For a moment the two regarded each other in near silence. 

"....he's just young." Link judged, "And spoilt." And there, finally, despite the note of condescension in his tone... Link's thin lips quirk into a half sort of smile, fond and a little doting. He reached to stroke the soft, silvery mane as Sheik drifted over to loop his fingers through the other side of the halter. The horse's head and neck is between them, the young stallion suddenly far better behaved. "He seems to like you well enough. Not much of a stolen thing, I think." 

Sheik knows better than to take the bait and gives a little shrug. "You steal something 'cause it's nice, not cause it hates you," he answered blithely. "How do I make him less spoiled?"

Link looked over at him flatly, unimpressed, "Stop spoiling him."


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, there is a scene in this chapter in which a trans character reveals they are trans, is worried about the other character's reaction, and mentions some fears of transphobia. The other character is not a jerk and accepts them. This is a scene that I debated whether or not to leave in- this fic was written between 2014-2016 and shows its age in some places. It's not a trope I am overtly fond of anymore, but for the purposes of the story it serves a crucial moment in which both parties start putting a lot more trust into each other, so I kept it in.

Time seems to fly, the weeks stretching into months as they travel. The going only gets harder as they head towards the coast. The husk of Tree Town is a vertical blot in the distance, still very far away. Out here there is little vegetation, and less shade, but there seems to be no shortage of vicious monsters somehow. True to Link's word, as the horse adjusts to its new life of spartan living, it stops being quite so much of a brat. The stallion remained fidgety, despite all of that, and Link chalked it up to being "more pretty than it was meant to be useful". Whatever that meant. Sheik had been long regaled with the fact that castle-bred horses were the fastest in all the land. A truth that was regularly challenged by the hardy, wiry desert ponies that were the favored mounts of this group. But even with his own steed's challenging behavior, the mustangs seemed twice as willful. Sheik could only be grateful he'd been provided a horse before joining the group. He was quite certain he did not have the willpower or aptitude to convince one of the rustler ponies to do what he wanted.

Oases and stopping points are few and far between once they clear the rolling dunes. The sand dunes are ever-moving, but mask shade and settlements. The packed, scorched earth of the flats offer no respite from the heat or merciless sun. The dust is so thick from the hooves of the thin herd that Sheik can constantly taste the bitter tang of it in his nose and mouth despite the face coverings he wears. At last, after eighteen days of the brutal trek... they reach a valley. And not just any valley. A verdant, lush valley, sequestered in high rolling hills, with a sparkling lake at the northern part of the bowl, and many little creeks. Sheik had never been so glad to see grass in his life, and judging by horse, human and cow alike flopping down amidst the sweet smelling grass just to feel it again, he wasn't the only one. They ate well that night, eggs and wild hen, and rabbit, foraged vegetables and berries, and Sheik thought not even the king's fine banquets had filled him quite this well.

They ate, and drank, and with the exception of a few sentries, dropped off to sleep.

Sheik waited until the night had reached its darkest, when everything was hazed and muffled by the shroud of sleep. It was risky, so risky if he were caught... but he needed to re-apply the hair dye, lest the true color show through and reveal his deception. Not to mention he stank, and was covered in a not-so-fine layer of dust. He was careful, making sure to not wake anyone else as he made his escape. The sentries honestly didn't seem to care that he went to go bathe. Half the camp had earlier, and more would in the morning. Probably wanting to sneak off and have the waters to oneself was not a bad idea by a half. 

He got down to the river, and swiftly stripped the armor, the binder, the underclothes, and left them in a neat pile within reach of the water. He wasted no time to dip in, resisting the urge to groan as cool waters hit sore muscles and raw skin. Keeping an eye on his surroundings, he scrubbed away at the layer of filth, getting as clean as he could. He then went to move, to get back to the shallower part of the shore for the dye folded within his clothes. It had already nearly washed out with the application of soap, leaving grey-stained silver to shine in the moonlight he needed to swiftly reapply it. Each second the chance of someone seeing him grew. But as he moved, something strange happened. Perhaps it had not been tread upon before, or perhaps the crowd earlier had kicked up a rotten log. Maybe his weight was too much on the undisturbed riverbed; but regardless the surface he had his feet on suddenly dropped away, and before he could quite understand what had happened, his head was beneath the waves. It took a frighteningly long time for them to reach the bottom of it again. His lungs screamed as he fought towards the surface again. There was little light to guide him back to air, and his lungs were screaming for air.

All at once, strong hands wrapped around his wrist, and pulled up. There was a sharp, painful yank on his ankle, almost as though something were trying to drag him back down. Whoever had their grip on him merely readjusted... and the thing around his ankle that he'd been barely aware of gave way. He found himself roughly hauled to the surface, up onto the rough riverbank, coughing and gasping. But the panic set in immediately and he scrambled to his feet. Who was it that had found him? And what were they going to do? His eye-patch was off, his hair was white, he-

"Shhh, sh! Shut up!" Was the hissed voice, and a bit of a whicker beyond that. Sheik went still, eyes wild and bright as they came into focus. It was Link, who was now looking over the Sheikah's head to the sparse forest beyond, clearly checking to see if anyone heard the commotion. Or to see if anyone would come if Sheik started to scream. He tensed up as Link let go to start shrugging off his jacket, getting ready for the fight of his life- but Link just put it over his shoulders and then backed away, raising his hands in a defensive, calming motion like he might with one of his horses. Still panting for breath, dripping wet, Sheik's expression went from blind animal panic to something faintly confused and incredulous, even as he forced himself to relax his hands out of the fists he'd balled them into.

"Don't stab me or nothin'. I'm tryna help," The horseman muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. And then he just turned his back, looking instead at the scruffy brown-red pony he'd brought down to the riverbank to graze for acorns and ferns beneath the branches of the trees, and just beyond it where the camp lay still, the faint glimmer of golden lantern-light and banked fires marking its place easily even from here.

Sheik blinked, swallowing a few times, staying still for several long moments. He kept waiting for Link to turn back around, or say something. But the quiet man was just keeping watch while his horse ate and the deep river flowed behind them. The sheikah cautiously approached his clothes and fetched the packet of ink, keeping his eyes on the Hylian the entire time. He couldn't even risk getting the dye on his clothes. It was the one moment of vulnerability to this entire scheme. Having been gone so long, they couldn't risk a magical disguise wearing off, or a more perceptive individual seeing through it. And here now, the worst possible thing had just happened. He took a breath. He had to redye his hair. Link hadn't moved. It would be too suspicious to leave it, or risk getting the dark dye on his clothing where someone would surely notice if even a trace of the pigment remained. He would have to accept the risk, and the shock of what had just occurred. He selected a larger rock on the riverbank, and settled himself,eyeing the water warily before beginning the process. It would not take long, fortunately. He had practiced what must have been a thousand times at the castle to ensure the risk to him was minimized. He could do this in his sleep. 

He glanced again at Link, still expecting to see the man turn to look at him, to glare suspiciously or leer judgmentally. But he hadn't budged, looking fixedly outwards to the camp and his horse drinking further down the way. 

Once he was done, he rinsed the excess dye out, and got dressed as swiftly as he could, heart pounding all over again. Link still hadn't turned to look, and dread coiled tight around his stomach. Maybe this wasn't a good sign. Maybe he was angry, or disgusted. After all, there would be only one reason a Sheikah spy had infiltrated their ranks. And it didn't spell a good ending for Link himself, or any of the people he had lived alongside for years. "...Link-" The Sheikah started.

"I'm not gonna tell," Was the mutter, the blonde scuffing his boot into the dirt, and clicking his tongue for the horse. He hadn't looked at the sheikah yet. "Ain't my business. Ain't theirs, either."

Sheik barely knew what to say. The horse was sedately plodding towards them, oblivious to the tension thick in the air between them. Sheik's fear, and something inscrutable from the Hylian. "...thank you." He said quietly, silently willing the other man to look at him. He was desperately grateful, but also barely believed what he was being told.

Link didn't seem keen on taking the thanks. "How's your ankle?" He asked instead... but did finally turn to look him over. It was the glance of a concerned friend, with furrowed brows and the beginnings of a frown tugging at his lips. There was nothing predatory or angry in the expression, and at last the tension left Sheik's body, his shoulders slumping.

"My- Oh. It's... it seems fine," The spy replied weakly, glancing down at it. It ached, and stung where whatever it was that had grabbed him had gripped. "Did you see what did this? I... I didn't realize anything was there at all, until you grabbed me. I just thought I slipped."

"There's always shit in places like this," Said Link, looking out over the placid waters, "You think its normal we find a patch of green like this in the desert? Nah. There's probably faeries or monsters-- or both-- at the bottom of this lake. Keeps everything safe, keeps it lookin' the way it always has, and always will. You see lots of strange shit, and we've stopped here before. 'S what got the other sheikah."

Sheik shivered. This hadn't been an accident. Had Volga known? Had his skills or the horse, or his bearing- any of it, all of it, given him away already?

"That's why the sentries let ya go. It's a test." Link went on, "If you're not human enough, the lake tries to take you to the bottom." Link put the saddle back on his horse, the animal giving a thorough shake and scattering water everywhere. He paused, looking at the other man. "So you'll be good now. They'll trust you now. But next time y'need to dye your hair like that or whatever.... just come to me an' don't wander off by yourself. I'm not gettin' killed by something trying to rescue you or anyone else." He snorted, starting to lead the horse away.

"Link, thank you so much." It's all he can think of to say. Sheik feels off balance, still light-headed and knowing he hadn't grasped everything that had just happened. But Link didn't pause, and as before didn't acknowledge his thanks. The treeline swallowed him and the horse up, leaving Sheik to collect himself, and limp back to camp on his own. 

He felt the eyes of the sentries on him as he passed, pausing to look up at one closer to his tent. They smiled warmly, with a nod, and Sheik knew in that instant, the truth-seeing in his blood letting him know. Link hadn't been lying. He'd been accepted into the brand for real now. What that meant.... he was yet to understand.


	5. Chapter 4

At first, Sheik kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting Link to out him to the other rustlers in some form or fashion, about any of the secrets that had been revealed to him at the riverside. But he never did. And all the while, Sheik was invited closer and closer to the middle bonfire, gaining favor from the other cowboys as his inexperience gave way to someone steady and accountable- unflinching in the face of violence or emergency. It was not the Sheikah training in the arts of subterfuge that aided him here, but rather that which Impa had taught him would one day be his burden to bear. The Sheikah were the first and last line of defense the Hylians had. Even fallen from grace as they were, in times of crisis everyone looked to these elite warriors for the queues. If you faltered, to let your fear show... it could cost more than just a victory. Here it was not the morale of civilian or soldier at stake, but rather his own life and position within the group. There were more tests, though less intentional than just the lake. Rampaging Lynels, emboldened bokoblins, and hungry wolfos. Sheik proved he could handle them all quite efficiently with bow, rifle or knife. 

What was more, Link didn't seem to avoid him anymore. Something between the two had tentatively begun to grow. It was more than the trust of harbored secrets. They got along well. Link would find him when they rested, just to sit beside each other and eat, and their routine of Link keeping an eye out for Sheik as he redyed his hair or got clean had become something friendly. What started as awkward silence during these times had eventually lead to easier conversation. Link wasn't a ghost he heard about, and never saw, even when the two were at work. Sheik often caught sight of the Hylian among the herd on his dusty, lanky pony. All of this could have put him at ease. But finally, he did catch sight of Link's expression at one of the fireside talks with Volga. The red-gold flames lit up his face like some distant, ancient god, and at that moment Sheik could believe that his friend had the blood of many on his hands. It was a startling vision to glimpse there, and one that was difficult for Sheik to ignore... no matter how much time passed.

The weeks turned to months. They traveled frequently, stopping to convene with some of their company's men and animals. Sometimes cows were added, other times they were split off. To where the Sheikah did not know. Part of him was curious, but he also knew very well not to step away from his orders that he had been given, lest he destroy someone else's work. But at times he had to feel like perhaps he really was the only Sheikah left out here to mind this. He never caught sight of any familiar faces in any of the groups that they encountered. They were a long way from civilization, and Sheik wondered if they would ever stop. What was more, the herd seemed to only be getting smaller. It made him wonder if perhaps their intel had been mistaken-- or perhaps they had already stopped their rustling. Perhaps it had not been thieving at all but reclaiming. The claims had been false; allegations meant to hinder a rival company. It was hard to think of these people as cold-hearted, greedy murderers. They were loyal to each other, patient with faults, eager to teach Sheik how to survive in the wasteland that lay outside of Hyrule.

To his relief, eventually he found out they were headed for a border town city. A medium-sized one, with a Sheikah outpost no less. His job would soon be over. The thought brought strange regret and relief all at once. While the lack of answers was frustrating, the lack of violence was a blessing. It was always a good day when there were no guilty to cast the judgment of the Crown upon. He settled himself outside the camp of men to write down his report. It had been nearly a year, with no sign of notable lawbreaking...aside from the small crimes that one might have to make to survive. Nothing the Sheikah needed to intervene into, at any rate. But it would be strange to leave them now, what felt like so soon after he had just gotten acclimated.

"You might want to wait," At the voice, Sheik jumped, his hands flying to his knife. Who had managed to sneak up on him from here, while he was writing this? But of course, it was just Link. The cowboy came to a stop beside him, standing rather than sitting, to look over everything with an unreadable expression.

"What do you mean?" Sheik asked. Wait to make his report? Was someone else coming to talk to him?

Link looked back down at him, "Stay longer," he replied, pale eyes unreadable and cold, sending chills up and down Sheik's spine. He didn't know how the Hylian was always able to goad these sorts of responses from him. Surely, the blue-eyed Hylian had some Sheikah blood of his own to be able to move so silently as to fool even Sheik. Moreover, Sheik's innate instincts did not react at all to Link. Perhaps one of the few reasons why he had even stayed just a year. Sheikah could in some way, see the truth of people and things, and many of the rustlers raised the hair on the back of his neck with the feeling of danger. But with Link... Link wasn't like that. Maybe that was the real reason that the Hylian could catch him off guard so easily. _you're safe with hi,_ his senses seemed to be saying. But at the same time... he could never shake the feeling of terror or electricity that had rooted him to the spot the night he had met Link's eyes. There was something haunting and familiar there, begging him to find out what it all meant.

Sheik blew out a sigh, looking back down at his letter, "I appreciate the invitation but-"

"Sheik," Another start, Sheik's wide eyes fixing on the other man. He hadn't told him his real name. Link's eyes were as impassive and cold as ever, not reacting to Sheik's palpable nervousness or fear. It was oddly comforting. Link patiently waited for the panic to fade from his companion's gaze. How long had he known? Since the night he'd seen him, probably, since that night at the Lake. He supposed, even as inexperienced as he was... his identity and appearance was a novelty that would have reached even all the way out here. Link seemed to be considering his words carefully.

"You haven't seen anything yet," His voice was solemn and grave, his pale eyes boring into Sheik's. Coming from Link, Sheik suddenly believed it wholeheartedly. Sheik dropped his bright eyes back to the crumpled paper, "...Do I want to see? Can't I just-" It was a selfish question, one born of weariness. Could he not pretend he never found out? Surely there were greater evils than a band of men trying to survive on the fringes of society. "I mean... you do know if I find anything that you..."

There was a noncommittal shrug, and frown finally twisted the young man's features, Link's attention finally returning to the half-obscured shapes of the camp. "I'd deserve it." He said simply, "Don't betray your own morals for my sake."

Sheik's brows furrowed, "But you're... you're different," He began to protest, keeping his tone surprisingly even, falling back on his lessons with his mother, trying to reign in the storm of emotions in his ribcage.

"Because you like me?" So perceptive as always, and although there was something in his tone, his face was unchanged, hard and cold, just a remnant of the earlier frown.

"I can't pretend that I don't," Sheik said, "But there's a reason for that. Link- come back with me!" The pale eyes flickered to meet Sheik's red then, holding his gaze solidly while the young spy went on. "There's something... something different about you. You could come with me, you could train, be one of the Sheikah-" And here something kindly entered the other young man's expression, and finally Link looked as young as he was. An expression soft and apologetic. An abyss formed in Sheik's heart, knowing full well the answer that accompanied such an expression.

"No, Sheik," His words were so gentle-- where had the earlier harshness and coldness gone? Where was his taciturn friend? "You know I can't,"

"No, I don't," Sheik whispered back fiercely, "I can see it Link just-"

"There is someone who depends on me. I'm not going to leave them," Link's words stopped him cold, "I made a promise years ago. It's why I'm still here. If I went with you, it would still be as a criminal. I would always be watched. I could never go back,"

Sheik's fingers crinkled into the paper, unable to look away as Link finally revealed to Sheik his own secret, "If you catch me, that's alright. I've got papers. Part of the bounty will go towards my family if I'm killed. If I live, that's where my wages go too. I thought about this since I saw you," The cowboy's hands were jammed in his pockets. "Before then too, really. I knew a Sheikah or the Crown would come for us eventually. But I also kinda thought..." He trailed off and didn't finish. Sheik understood. He'd never been intended to make it past that unnatural oasis. Volga's piercing gaze saw through the lies nearly as sure as any of Sheik's family. The band of thieves was well-protected. But here he was, nearly a year later, and in a position where he could strike at their heart very easily.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, and meant it, "Thank you, Link. I-" He bit down on his lip, "I know you're right. I know I have a job," One that he suddenly hated. Something imposed upon the Sheikah by a distant and out of touch monarchy would would never seek to understand or solve the root of these issues. Just dispatch Sheikah and guards to handle the inevitable collapse of the world around them. "I'll do my best though, for you. You've helped me-- I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't been there. That means something to me. I... I hope it means enough to balance out whatever else..."

Link nodded as Sheik too trailed off. If there was too much to look past, that was all there was to it. Neither of them could change the past, nor could they know what the future truly held. "That's more'n I'd ask of you, Sheik. Thank you," Link's voice had not yet taken on its usual cold tones. He breathed in the hot night air, and finally stooped to sit, just a few inches between them. For a moment it was peaceful and quiet. Sheik leaned to bump Link's shoulder with his own fondly, despite the emotional turmoil that clamored for him to beg Link for more answers, or to change his mind. But Sheik knew, deep down, what was happening... would happen no matter what. It was the feeling of destiny, he realized with slow dread.

"Brought your dinner, too," Link finally added, breaking the silence.

Sheik actually laughed, his voice warm and fond, "Of course you did."


	6. Chapter 5

"Let me drop your letter off," The town is uneventful, small and quiet. There is a bar, and a hotel, and a place to put your horses. A general store. The Spirit Tracks run along side it, the lifeblood of the community, the only thing making this nondescript place of worthy note. Sheik glanced up at Link, the blonde Hylian holding out his weathered hand towards Sheik.

"Thanks," He said, handing over the neatly folded envelope, "I suppose they won't try to read your letters?" Sheik asked with a nervous laugh, his eyes flickering away-- he knew there were none of the other rustlers nearby, but he still felt nervous. There'd been a different feel around the camp recently. The boss, Volga, had an odd look in his eye, and he and Link had been at odds for a few days now, not speaking to each other from across the larger bonfire. The town was a good excuse for everyone to get some breathing room from each other.

"No," Said Link, not seeming amused in the slightest, "Volga knows I mail something to Malon whenever I come to town," He had no idea if she got the letters, Sheik had learned. They never returned to the same places often enough to get the mail. For all Link knew... she was long dead. But the blonde had faith that she was still out there, somehow, and still waiting for him. Anything leftover from Link's wages were into that letter-- where the rest went, Sheik hadn't the slightest idea.

Sheik looked around the tiny town, seeming lost as Link moved ahead of him. But when Sheik wasn't quick enough to follow, Link glanced back. "Stick close to me," He said, his voice actually faintly annoyed, and Sheik blinked, leading his horse alongside Link.

"Volga is meeting with a regent of the Boss," He said, "Our real one," The actual bad guy here, something Sheik was keen to get information on but doubted he would. "They'd recognize you sooner than I did. So just stay by me, and out of sight." Sheik nodded, making sure to keep alongside Link's horse now, mostly hidden from view by the shaggy pony's bulk.

"How would they know me?" Sheik asked, "My disguise is--"

"Very good, but they'd know. Sometimes they're Gerudo. Other times they're Twilit. Either way, they're keener to magic than a Hylian or even Volga," Link explained tersely. "And if the Boss himself shows up... it wouldn't be good for you. We don't get along to begin with so I don't think I could get out of a tight spot if they found out about you and me," Sheik frowned. He and Link what, exactly? He was never quite able ot place their relationship. He wanted to be close to Link-- and the other man seemed to be obliging. Opening up his hopes and fears and dreams with more and more ease as the days went by but... to what end? What at all could possibly come of this? even he knew they were reaching the end of their journey together.

Realizing he hadn't answered, Sheik sighed, "Sorry, just... thinking," He said, running a hand through his darkened hair, shifting the rifle that was slung over his shoulders.

Link made a noise of acknowledgment, but in typical fashion did not ask what it was that Sheik was thinking of. Once they arrived at the mailbox, Link stooped from his saddle to put the letters into the dusty red box. That being done, he straightened, looking down at Sheik and starting to head in another direction, "What are you gonna do?" Link asked, making sure Sheik was following behind him. Sheik knew he wasn't asking about the rest of the day.

"Go through with it," Sheik told him immediately, "It's what I cam here for."

Link nodded, and the two set about the errands they'd been given without further talk.

That night, Sheik was finally invited to the inner circle of the campfire, and slowly but surely the plan was laid out to him. Their Boss was unhappy-- the trip had been rough on the herd. Too many were dead, too many about there, despite Link's best efforts. There wasn't enough money in them, and the Boss did not like coming up short. So... now it was time to get what they needed from others, or pay the price of failure. It was easy to see the hard lines, the exhaustion in the faces of those around him... or some of them. Others had only a gleam in their eye, eager for the fight. Link seemed immovable, a direct contrast to his leader, Volga clearly anticipating the upcoming raid.

The nights passed quickly, the group now moving swiftly across the desert without the herd to slow them down, and with the threat of what failure meant chasing after their heels.

Sheik finally called the owl that had lurked near them, just days before the raid was planned. He knew how and when now. He sent the bird out to summon the other Sheikah, too aware of Link's bright eyes on him from some distance away.

The trap was set. The game drew to a close.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops! I missed last night. I got home late and when I looked over this chapter it needed some serious editing that I didn't want to rush. But the good news is that means I can double update during the shorter chapters :D 
> 
> This chapter is the one with body-horror and also a fair bit of violence/injury.

Sheik could not have asked for a more fortuitous location, if he were honest, save for one terrible flaw. The targeted herd was located inside a canyon, where the walls rose hundreds of feet above like earthen citadels, casting shadows that were long and deep. Within this labyrinth was a town, and that town had good, fat cattle, a local herd that would serve the crime lord quite well. The only issue was that this town had a great many cattle due to it being solidly within the Twilit boundaries, where few were foolish enough to trespass. The days of yore had ended where these border settlements warped spirit and flesh... but strange things always happened within these shadowy places. 

Despite this, Sheik was hopeful. The deep shadows cast by the pillars of stone ensured there would be plenty of places for the sheikah launch their ambush, and swiftly disappear into when the fighting grew pitched. Sheik had learned from a young age that the darkness was the only consistent ally of the shadowfolk, more than a blade, steed or friend. Their most prized skill, shadow-walking, could only be used in these areas of darkness. For young sheikah they could blend in easily into the shadows offered; but for veterans they were able to move through them like a serpent through waves, leaping from shadow to shadow. Hylians understood it as his people having greater speed after the sunset, but every Sheikah knew the true depth and extent of their gift. And it would be this skill that the Sheikah would need desperately to not be caught too early to spring their trap. The sharp pattern of light and shadow that the canyons made.... were perfect. All he had to hope was that the twilit would not intervene.

Link had been quite silent the whole trip, had made his displeasure at the plan quite early. This was too bold, too dangerous, he'd said. Sheik knew he was offering them a last chance to turn back, to let go. It was all for naught. A few had when this was proposed, politely backed out. Sheik was certain they would never be seen or heard from again. They knew too much, had seen too much. Dragmire or Volga would snuff their lives out quietly somewhere in the vast wastes around him. But he was rapidly getting in over his head himself, and Volga's eyes seemed to be ever focused on him now, a sulfuric acid yellow that was disconcerting. He'd never noticed the gang's leader too much until now, perhaps because the man had wholly ignored him typically. But with their numbers so low, now the red-head was taking interest. Link didn't help matters much, sometimes stepping into Sheik's defense when Volga's prying or teasing got out of hand. The tension mounted and only got worse as they finally entered the canyon.

What had started as an ideal location was rapidly losing its charm. An unnatural storm was brewing, casting everything into misty grey. Every now and again geometric shapes fell in odd flickers, distorting the air and light around them. Legend had it that the Queen of Twilight and her consort had tried to intervene on Hyrule's behalf; to use their vast powers to bring water back to the desert. Sometimes it succeeded. But others... The effect was disconcerting, the senses of Hylian, human and sheikah alike all clouded and distorted by the unnatural magic that permeated the air. As they waited in the wings to begin their plan, Link said nothing, but even Volga finally acknowledged that perhaps Link's fears were well-founded, that perhaps they had been asked to do too much. But there was no turning back. What was their alternative? Dragmire was a thousand times more cruel than the apathy of spelled rainfall. Their victory was assured, regardless, one way or another. If it came to a fight, even Sheik knew that the average townsperson had no chance against the battle-hardened veterans of this war party. It seemed like an inevitable slaughter.

They waited for night to fall. Lightning cracked overhead, lighting up the dry landscape in brilliant flashes of light. The attack launched was swift. The fence demolished, the cattle whipped into a frenzy. The townspeople were quick to react, however, attempting to fight back... only for Volga's main party to come sweeping in, Link and Sheik at his side at the warrior's instance. The lead rustler was adamant that Link and Sheik face their fears head-on, to learn how the world 'really' worked. To finally put as much blood on their hands as Volga had.

But what should have been an easy fight for the outlaws suddenly turned against them. In the pitch-blackness that followed a sear of lighting, a bandit screamed. The Sheikah were there, Impa terrifying at the front, her glaive flashing with pale steel and the rattle of beading. The horses screamed and pitched at the tang of shadow magic, and in the chaos Sheik was thrown, landing hard and dazed on the ground, struggling to his feet and to resume his bearings. The darkness was absolute, even for him, as the twilit magic fell, blocking any light. Every now and again lightning permeated the battlefield, casting blinding light over the battlefield. It was a nightmare made real, the sounds of battle, the scream of horses, the clash of blade and occasional cracks of gunshots. The lightning each time forced the Sheikah from their shadowy realm, and despite their initial advantage, the unstable atmosphere of the twilit magic, and the sudden bursts of intense illumination began to level the playing field for the warband.

Sheik regained his footing fully, drawing his thin, curved sword. He didn't dare shoot in weather like this. "Link!" He called getting to his feet, trying to see through the curtain of falling shadows. There was a cry of pain, harsh and familiar, and Sheik whirled. "Link!" He cried again. Ad now the lightning illuminated the red-stained battlefield, the bodies of man and beast littered upon the ground. Link not too far from him, a thin-shafted arrow protruding from his shoulder, the blonde clutching at the wounded limb, already going down to one knee. He did not want to fight. "_Don't hurt him! Don't hurt the blonde one by me_!" He called in Sheikah, reaching through the muddied darkness for his kin, praying someone heard and understood.

"YOU!!" Someone had heard. But that someone was Volga. Sheik had barely any time to turn, raising his blade just in time to block an earth-shattering swing from his opponent's greatsword. The shock of it went all the way up his arm, and he wished dearly for his armor. He had to rely on his speed now, but Volga himself was armored and strong. Almost unnaturally so. Sheik blocked another blow and knew he couldn't keep that up, his whole arm throbbing, the young Sheikah being forced backward. His worry for Link had vanished, desperation at his own situation starting to sink in. He was outmatched. This was a foe for Impa or the Elders, not a young spy.

He tried to shadow leap away, to get behind the powerful warrior but lightning seared the sky, and the twilit magic dragged him down. Volga somehow matched him for speed, whirling as Sheik tried to jump past, the barbed blade unavoidable. It caught Sheik on his side, and he sucked in a breath to avoid the cry of pain. Blood mixed with red earth at his feet, and he dodged another vicious swing. The next sent his sword to the ground. Before Sheik could react, his opponent had slashed deeply into his shoulder, steel biting through muscle and into bone, and now he couldn't stop the half-scream of agony, the barbed blade ripped free. Impa's presence came to him in the wake of a lightning flash, aware suddenly of his danger. She was coming. But it would be too late, far too late.

Sheik's red eyes raised to meet Volga's vermillion, a vicious grin, sharp-toothed and jubilant had stretched wide, too wide for a human face, and he swung the blade downwards, a strike that would have cleaved his victim asunder.

A swing that did not hit, not in full, still biting deeply into the joint of Sheik's other shoulder. There was the scream of steel and an infuriated roar from the monstrous fighter. The fight all at once was not his burden to bear. The sheikah were aware of their youngest's plight now, and he was dragged harshly back from the fury and din of Volga and his new opponent.

But Sheik could not be forced away, trying to lunge forward as he beheld the fight that no one dared interfere in. The Sheikah lacked their precision in the accursed downpour. Volga was distorting, an arm too large, an eye bulging, teeth like needles splitting over lips, the smell of charred flesh that somehow permeated the air over the stench of ozone. His sword glowed hot at the hilt where it was held, and the edges. It was the only reason perhaps why Sheik had not bled into unconsciousness. The monster was illuminated like a cinder bed in the darkness, red and gold and ivory draped in shadows. 

And yet- before the aberration that grew and grew, one lone figure was lit up by the monster's inferno: Link. Each swing of the monstrous man's blade Sheik was sure would shatter the blonde's arm or sword. But both held and the two clashed, again and again, Link drawing lines of fire across the abomination's hide. Though the Hylian fought grimly on, he soon was covered in a dozen grievous injuries. 

"Link!" Sheik called, desperate, fighting against the hands that held him back, "Link! Stop! Link!" He was going to die. The shell of a human he was fighting was splitting at the seams as the monster within escaped, wings, tail, fire like from the depths of the earth. Link was burning, bleeding-- and fighting still, though he staggered, red running in rivulets down skin and torn cloth.

The beast reared up before him, screaming, flaring wide wings, scattering the torrent of twilitfall. Both dove at the same time. Link's sword plunged downwards, driving into a peculiar gap in the beast's tail. Jaws tore into his shoulder and back before he was able to twist away, and his avoidance became half a fall.

Now some of the Sheikah surged forwards, trying to kill the monster that had emerged from the husk of Volga's human body. But the monster turned to face them, and fire spilled from its blackened jaws, scattering the shadowfolk. The dragon let out a screeching scream of a jubilant laugh, throwing itself headlong at the contingent- and it's tail caught on the blade, the dragon's body suddenly losing momentum, slamming into the ground hard, fire guttering briefly along its spine.

Nobody saw Link drag himself up from the shadow-clogged ground, but suddenly he was there, leaping forwards, the sword drawn from the ring on Volga's tail. The dragon lashed its wings to rise into the safety of the air. Link was faster. The charred blade came down once, twice, three times at the thin part of the creature's neck before it shattered. The beast reared with a gurgling scream, thrashing, kicking away from the monster as it writhed in its death throes. His blade had not been nearly strong enough to kill it. But Impa intervened with the swing of her glaive, and at last the dragon and the Hylian both were still. Sheik broke free of his kin, rushing to Link's side as the man tried to push himself up. "Goddesses Link, what- what were you thinking, he could've- you could've-" He had his arms under Link's shoulders, partially holding him up. Sheik's eyes were looking over the injuries that had sliced and burned through fabric and flesh and finally met Link's after a frantic moment.

"You okay?" The Hylian rasped, moving his hand to reach for Sheik's face... and then stopping. Hesitating, and pulling back. Sheik finally felt the gulf that could have been bridged yawn deeper, unfathomably wide. And yet all he could feel was relief that he was not cradling a corpse. Impa stood before him, her expression impassive but her eyes trained on Sheik.

"I'm alright, thanks to you," Sheik got out, barely whispering. It was the truth, and he would not mince words because his family was here to judge him for his weakness. "Just... Just hold on, alright? We'll get you looked at. You're going to be okay." He promised. Link was still looking at him, and Sheik didn't know how the Hylian could give him such an expression at this moment. It was filled with clarity and sharpness, not a hint of desperation, confusion, or even pain. He wished there was. For perhaps then the look would not have been so piercing, not been so clearly aware of the great lie that Sheik had just told. "Just rest, please," Sheik whispered, desperate for Link to look away. 

The Hylian's eyes closed. As though the obedience had taken everything from him, Link's body slumped forward, supported only by Sheik's embrace. And only then, did Sheik dare to meet Impa's eyes.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find the fate of Link & Sheik, and everyone's a little sad about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness. Lots happened last year, I won't delve into it much. But I went to start a new fic and remembered I'd left this one hanging. The earlier disclaimer in chapter 1 about the writing still applies. I have decided to break this into two fics, however, now that I'm dusting it off and looking at the content/tone/plot of what was intended to be the next few chapters. 
> 
> I'll do my best to update this one more regularly <3

Link's recovery was slow. It would be months before he was well enough to stand- much less stand trial. The other cowherds had gone to the noose, there was no leniency there. But Link had been different, even towards the end, having protected Sheik's secret, and even the Sheikah who had ambushed his former friends. Although Sheik's biased opinion could not be wholly dismissed, the other Sheikah were able to confirm the existence of Malon eventually, and Malon's tearful joy that Link was still alive won more of his accusers over. The rest would come at Link's joyful reunion with the other hylian- and the child he'd not known he'd had, now several years old but with such distinctively bright blue eyes and wheat-blonde hair that there could be no question as to the parentage. 

And yet Sheik watched with growing separation, realizing that despite his own heart's wishes, Link... Link's own belonged to someone else. It was a somewhat bitter realization, though it was not necessarily a surprise. And in the end, Sheik knew that he just wanted Link to be _happy_, to be _safe_... and that's not the sort of life he would live as the oathsworn of a Sheikah. And it was not as though the crown would never hear of letting him, child of Impa, swear to an outlaw either. Even one with a decreased sentence. No matter how noble his intentions, Link was going to forever have that reputation hanging over his head with every one of the Royal Guard and Sheikah he would interact with.

But at the very least, at the end of the process, it was decided that Link would not hang, nor face the whip. His future was not one of agony, but hard labor in an honest trade. He'd still earn wages (which he'd already arranged to be sent still to Malon). He'd eventually go free, and hopefully with an honest craft to his name. Sheik, despite everything, could only feel happiness. This was truly the best outcome they could hope for. Link had a chance at true happiness. 

And yet, he could feel Impa's eyes on him as the sentence was delivered- because Link would be taken to Lake Hylia, far from the city. Far from the Sheikah. From Sheik. Sheik, to his credit, kept his composure the whole way through. Despite a few less-than-subtle questions from Impa and the other Sheikah in private, Sheik refused to admit that any part of this would be painful for him. Sheik had a job. Sheik had made a friend, yes, but he was Sheikah. The only loyalty he had was to the crown, and now his job was over. 

But it was... over. And for all he denied it, he half didn't want it to be. He hated himself for the thought. His defenses even satisfied Impa, but Sheik knew the truth. If he could do it all again, knowing now the outcome. Knowing now that their ambush would go so awry that it would literally generate a monstrosity, and that Link would not be able to slip away. Knowing that these few weeks were the last few weeks they would _ever_ see each other again...? 

By the Goddesses, Sheik would have never called his kin, never given away the roving band of hustlers. He could have stayed in the desert forever, by Link's side, spending long nights listening to husky lullabies.

A future shattered and swept away in this, and so deep was Sheik's foolish love that he could not even bring himself to be upset at Link. It wasn't his fault that Sheik had fallen quite so hard.

And Link? Link took it all with due grace, even Sheik's steadfast avoidance of him. Perhaps neither could quite bring themselves to say good-bye. A week after the sentence had been levied, Link was taken from the capital and was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> And we're off!
> 
> Visit our: [Tumblr ](https://spiritsofthepastcomic.tumblr.com/)| [Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/spiritsofthepastcomic/) (There's not much there yet, but we're working on it!)


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